Post by Bixir on May 20, 2024 4:29:34 GMT
Hoboken was never quiet. The sub-borough was dominated by mid-rises, warehouses, community centers. Most of these places were ramshackle things, cement and brick held together by little more than sentimentality and the stubbornness of the place. For everything that Hoboken had gone through, it continued to bustle like it was a second heart of this City. Cars - on the road and above it - were a constant buzz in the air. On a good day, it was an electronic staccato complimenting the groans of the not so distant factories a few sectors over. In suburbia like Hoboken, there was no escaping the climate that made life here both possible and insufferable.
Here, however, one could hear a pin drop. The only people that lived this far out from the urban centers technically didn't count as people, be they hoodlums or some other strain of undesirable marked as such by the local ordinance. The "crime scene", if it could be called that, was one of the only notable features for this three-story apartment complex. Familiar yellow tape marked the perimeter, if only just. Whoever had put it there had done so haphazardly, and they hadn't even stayed once the job was done. Faded chalk outlined the impact of the body. Last week's rain had washed most of it out, and left a similar impression on the body. Whatever model it had been, it was clearly prone to rust.
Save for the detective yet to come, there was only one other present at the scene. He stood out for many reasons, though the most obvious was the Victorian-esque coat, tunic, and slacks that covered his body of aged brass. The robot was tall, and slender. From a distance, he may have passed for a typical man from the Crown. He was standing outside the police tape, studying the scene himself. He was fastidiously entering information into a small datapad held in his left hand. Shame.
Here, however, one could hear a pin drop. The only people that lived this far out from the urban centers technically didn't count as people, be they hoodlums or some other strain of undesirable marked as such by the local ordinance. The "crime scene", if it could be called that, was one of the only notable features for this three-story apartment complex. Familiar yellow tape marked the perimeter, if only just. Whoever had put it there had done so haphazardly, and they hadn't even stayed once the job was done. Faded chalk outlined the impact of the body. Last week's rain had washed most of it out, and left a similar impression on the body. Whatever model it had been, it was clearly prone to rust.
Save for the detective yet to come, there was only one other present at the scene. He stood out for many reasons, though the most obvious was the Victorian-esque coat, tunic, and slacks that covered his body of aged brass. The robot was tall, and slender. From a distance, he may have passed for a typical man from the Crown. He was standing outside the police tape, studying the scene himself. He was fastidiously entering information into a small datapad held in his left hand. Shame.
